In this manner the devout ascetic spent his years, which otherwise might have been devoted, like those of his kinsmen, to acts of plunder and bloodshed; and it only leaves room for regret that his example was not more generally followed by his companions, whose armour, unfortunately for mankind, was never suffered to “rust;” and who often, at that period, transformed the beautiful Welsh frontier into a wide battle-field. The austerity of his life, witnessed by the rust on his armour, established his reputation for sanctity; and the cell that harboured a pious philosopher, was soon regarded as a shrine where he maintained constant intercourse with those angels and blessed spirits, whose office was to watch over the saints of that early day.
His fame becoming general among the religious fraternities, Father Ernesi, confessor to Queen Maude, was induced to make a pilgrimage to the Honddy; and there, entering into a holy alliance with the steel-clad hermit, he set immediately to work, and with most laudable industry erected a chapel on the spot, which was consecrated by Urban, Bishop of the Diocese, and Rammeline, Bishop of Hereford, and dedicated to the honour of St. John the Baptist, whose solitary life in the wilderness they affected to imitate.
Soon after this event, in the early history of Llanthony, Hugh de Laci, Earl of Hereford, listening to the ghostly exhortation of Ernesi, to evince his faith by good works, founded a Priory of Canons-Regular of the Order of St. Augustine, and placed it with all solemnity, as in the former instance, under the patronage of the blessed St. John. Of this new establishment, Father Ernesi, as he had a good right to expect, was elected Prior. This was the commencement of a new and important era for the fame of Llanthony, which, under the united management of the twain brothers—both in the odour of sanctity—acquired daily reputation, and drew to its sacred precincts some of the greatest men of the realm. The temporal affairs of the rising Abbey attained unwonted prosperity by the personal countenance and support of King Henry and his Queen, who were but too happy to exchange a portion of their superfluous wealth for an interest in the prayers of that holy brotherhood, who had elevated the banks of the Honddy to a near relationship with Heaven, and held in their hands—as it was currently believed—the “title-deeds of rich and extensive settlements in Paradise. And as the latter were assigned, without partiality, to the highest bidder,” the proceeds for masses alone—we speak not ironically but historically—increased the annual revenues to an amount that, in those times, was justly considered a fair proof of monastic prosperity. On the other hand, it is piously averred, that such was the disinterestedness and unworldly-mindedness of the brotherhood, that they despised everything that bore not the stamp of spiritual riches—that they declined all offers of lands, goods, and chattels, that were liberally tendered to their house.[317] In that case it seems probable that the Abbey of Llanthony was not erected in the ordinary way; that is, by dint of money, but by the force of miracles; and, like a certain city of old, was conjured into its fair and lofty proportions by the powers of Harmony. But after duly weighing the question, the evidence in favour of money seems conclusive; and indeed certain scripta are now extant to show that the brotherhood of Llanthony were not less sensible of the value of money—as a spiritual means—than any of their illustrious fraternity. But it may be said, with much truth, that the uses to which their money was applied, produced those “miracles” of Art, which it is the object of this work to illustrate.
[It is always to be kept in view, that these holy men, in professing poverty, were, literally, personally poor. The riches, of which they were merely the guardians—but which are so often charged against them as proofs of their avarice—were expended on the house of God; in other words, in fostering the arts, in relieving the poor, in practical hospitality, and in cultivating a niggardly soil. Personally, they were poor trustees upon a vast property, which they were bound to employ for the glory of God and the good of mankind; and if, in some cases that may be named, the funds thus contributed by the pious were perverted to less laudable purposes, the fact that, in general, they were applied to the excellent uses contemplated by the testators, is not to be controverted. The churches, hospitals, almshouses, cells, and priories, which were thus founded, built, and endowed from these sources, are proofs of the fidelity, good sense, and Christian philanthropy, with which the church property was then administered.]
Once upon a time, as the Monkish historian has told us, the Queen of King Henry, who desired to bestow a boon on William, of whose entire disinterestedness she was not apprised, desired permission to put her hand into his bosom;[318] and when, with great modesty, the holy man submitted to her importunity, she conveyed a large purse of gold between his coarse chemise and iron boddice; and thus, by a pleasant and innocent subtilty, administered, as she imagined, the means of comfort. But, oh, his wonderful contempt of the world! He displayed a rare example that the truest happiness is found to consist in possessing little or nothing of the good things of this life. He accepted, indeed, the Queen’s gift; but it was only that it might be expended, not in any worldly or selfish gratification, but in beautifying the house of God.
But having by this act overcome the scrupulous delicacy with which he had hitherto resisted the temptation of riches, they now flowed in from every quarter, until that noble edifice was completed, the mouldering Nave of which is represented in the engraving opposite.[319]
Of the situation of the Abbey, a very picturesque and glowing description, in good Latin, is given by the old historian, who paints the wild scenery, in which the first hermits took up their abode, with the pencil of a Salvator.[320] The following translation, though from a modern pen, is also a picturesque and not inaccurate sketch of the scene, which retains all the natural features ascribed to it by the first writer; but with one engrossing feature superadded—that of a stately abbey in the last stage of desolation—its towers and arches bearing witness to the arts employed in its construction, and the sacred objects of its foundation. In the following passage, Giraldus alludes to the Itinerary of Archbishop Baldwin[321] in 1188.
“In the deep Vale of Ewyas,” he writes, “which is about an arrow-shot in breadth, encircled on all sides by lofty mountains, stands the church of St. John the Baptist, covered with lead, and an arched roof of stone; and considering the nature of the place, not unhandsomely constructed on the very spot where the humble chapel of St. David had formerly stood, decorated only with moss and clay, a situation truly calculated for religious retirement, and better adapted for canonical discipline than all the monasteries of the British isle. It was founded, as already observed, by two hermits, in honour of religious seclusion, far removed from the bustle of life, and planted in a solitary vale watered by the river Hodeni—from which it was called Lanhodeni; for lan signifies an ecclesiastical place.[322]
“Owing to its mountainous situation, the rains are frequent, the winds boisterous, and the clouds in winter almost continual. The air of the place, though heavy, is found to be salubrious; and diseases are so rare, that the brotherhood, when worn out with long toil and affliction with the daughter—that is, New Llanthony on the Severn—no sooner return to this asylum, and their mother’s lap in the Vale of Ewyas, than they regain their wonted strength and vigour. For, as my topographical history of Ireland testifies, in proportion as we proceed to the eastward, the face of the sky is more pure and subtile, and the air more piercing and inclement; and as we draw nearer to the westward, the air becomes more cloudy, but, at the same time, is more temperate and healthy.
“Here, while sitting in their cloister, and enjoying the fresh air, the monks, when they happen to look up towards the horizon, behold the tops of the mountains, as it were, touching the heavens, and herds of wild deer feeding on their summits. The body of the sun does not become visible above the heights of the mountains, even in serene weather, until about the first hour, or a little more. Truly this is a spot well adapted for contemplation—a happy and delightful spot—fully competent, from its first establishment, to supply all its own wants, had not the extravagance of English luxury, the pride of a sumptuous table, the increasing growth of intemperance and ingratitude, added to the negligence of its patrons and prelates, reduced it from freedom to sterility; and if the step-daughter [Lanthonia Secunda], no less enviously than odiously, had not supplanted her mother.